Kampot, la suite

I think Jen hadn't even hit the floor that Ben and I were beside her. We saw that she was mostly ok - she wasn't going very fast. Blood stains were already on her shirt though, from a small gash on her chin about 2 inches across.

She was mostly laughing about it and complaining faintly about the pain. Through the light of our smartphones we inspected the gash and saw that it was dirty.

"Is it bad?" Asked Ben.
"I've seen much worst" I answered, thinking about the injuries i've seen on my dare-devil and/or drunken friends or myself. "Look, it's like manta ray mouth!"
"It's not funny you geeks!" Complainded Jen.
"Ok, I'll check the scooter, see if we can drive it back, I'll clean you up with my first-aid kit. Did you hit your head?"
"No, I don't think so"
"You have two mouths now!" Exclaimed Ben.
"Three" I added.
"You two are assholes! Can we go?"

After a quick inspection, I saw that the left brake was not working anymore and the front wheel was a little shaky. Thankfully the guesthouse was only a minute away. We crammed on the scooter, Jen in the middle so that Ben could hold her.

Back in the room we cleaned up her Cambodian souvenir as best we could and realised that it was a pretty deep cut... Jem changed in clean clothes while we looked for a hospital or a clinic on the city map. Thankfully it was along a road we were used to.

We packed books and beers in case this would take long. I put my headlamp on since Ben's motorbike lamp wasn't working, and drove to the clinic.

It is at around 2am that Ben rang the bell, installed next to a door made of sliding metal bars, same ones we see protecting stores. A drowzy nurse walked slowly towards us and opened the doors a few feet. Jenny half explained and half mimed her accident and showed her the gash.

"Oooonh" was all the nurse said, which seemed to mean "poor girl..." And opened the door large enough for her and Ben to walk in. They put her on a stretcher, Ben walking next to her, and I opened a beer while looking at the stars outside.

Abiut fifteen minutes and $30 later she re-emmerged, cleaned up, sowed up, chin-strap and all. We got back on the scooter and went to bed. I told Jenny she shouldn't sleep in case she got a concution - she did seem a little slow to answer, bu that could have been the beer and the late hour of the night.

The next morning Ben and Jen decided to stay a day longer in Kampot to let her rest, and offered to pay my share of the room. "It's not fair for you to pay because of me" she explained.

We had a very quiet day, eating and reading. We returned the scooters expecting a hefty ransom having heard the horror stories of Koh Pagnam, but Ben walked away with an $8 dollar bill.

We did go to a french pastry store we stumbled upon a few days back. A huge man in his sixties with a great round belly, giant forearms, and a mouth that barely opened when he talked greeted us, tellin us this place had the best pie he ever tasted.

Next time you see me, ask me to immitate him. Ben and I decided that he was a Tolkien dwarf in real life.

He asked us where we came from. When I said Canada he smiled and said Quebec right away, and I showed him my Canadiens belt buckle to confirm.

"Ooooh the Habs! Loved them when I was a boy. Had a lot of their stuff. They were unstopable back when all the frenchmen played for them. Rocket Richard and Big Bill and Boom Boom Geoffrion and Jack Plante. They won the cup 5 times in a row they did, more than once I believe. Yes. This place here, opened by the cook's parents. They came from China 60 years ago. Some frenchman from France showed them how to cook. The pie here, best I ever had, just like home. You cannot leave without eating it"

He was from Saskatchewan, and seemed to be sitting at a table of the little restaurant every single hour of the day, talking with someone.

The day after that we got on a bus that took us to Sihanoukville, the next chapter of my Cambodian journey.

Paï et le début de la fin de la Thaïlande

You wake up in the morning and meet up with a group of people you consider friends, many of which you know you will keep in contact for a long time.

Especially an english couple who you plan on visiting one day.

You share a breakfast and have a good laugh and decide on today's plans.

You rent a scooter and ask the owner of your hostel where you can go swimming and fishing, and leave with your scooter gang.

You split up from the gang to go swim in a tiny waterfall, the water ice cold and refreshing. So cold in fact that it actually takes your breath away when you fully dip in. You realise that the only water you've ever swam into that was colder was in Nova Scotia. You talk with a cute ginger who keeps staring at your chest but decide to not linger long since you have someone else on your mind and don't want to be a tease.

You meet up with the gang at the Piranha Fishing Farm and get your pole and bait, and a beer.

You chill out for a couple of hours and try your hands at Dirty Old Town on your harmonica, play with puppies and eat a chicken lasagna, out of vengeance for the rooster who almost made you crash earlier.

You go back to Paï and enjoy a walk in the night market, eating a little bit of everything.

You get drunk at the punk bar and the reggae bar. You go to bed with a smile.

You get up and repeat your morning routine.

You all decide to go to the hot springs to relax.

You all get on your scooters once more.

You have a quimsy feeling as Dominic - the wreckless guy of the gang - starts to speed up more and more. You know he's hungover and he hasn't had much to eat.

You take your time to see the scenery and negotiate the numerous curves of the country road, but always there is this nagging feeling inside of you.

You see a Thaï man watering his grass, water spilling on the pavement. You slow down.

You see this big curve with gravel coming up and you slow down even more.

You see Dominic waiting on the side of the road, holding his scooter. His body language is sending you signals.

You stop and see that his right arm is scratched raw, his right leg is bruised and bleeding.

You make plans to bring him back to town, wash his injuries, joke a little bit. You realise that naggy feeling was some sort of premonition - you knew this was going to happen.

You go back towards Paï, the most experienced driver bringing him back while the rest take it slow. You are driving the scooter that crashed so you do not dare go too fast.

You all later meet at the punk bar, then reggae bar, get drunk, laugh like crazy. This 20-year old french guy named Paul comes up to you and tells you he is glad to meet someone like you, who held on to his values for so long, that your personality is refreshing and humbling, and you hold back tears.

You talk food porn with the guys, laugh until you can't breath.

The next day you take it easy and end up at the punk bar yet again, and have a good talk with the owner/bartender who turns out to have a great sense of humour. You exchange emails.

You realise that tomorow starts your journey down south towards Cambodia and that you will be on your own again.

You feel alone for a moment and ponder on this feeling. A month ago you were seeking solitude. You think about your south african girlfriend who is waiting for you in Dubai and wishes you were talking more, but understands that you are traveling and wants to give you your space.

You wonder how your friends island-hopping down south are doing.

You smile, and go to sleep in your moskito net.